Peanut Butter Love
by Mother Nature's Daughter
Summary: Just before he volunteers to be the one to swim down to the Looking Glass, Charlie gives Claire one more fond memory of him...by taking her on a picnic. Short and sweet little oneshot with loads of fluff. Enjoy!


**Author's Note:** After what seemed like a very long week, today has arrived. Finally. Screw Fridays—we all know what that the _real_ 'best day of the week' is Thursday! And in honour of this wonderful day, I am posting this (set somewhere in Season three before the finale and after Charlie tried and failed to plan a picnic for Claire).

**Disclaimer:** If I say yes, it's all mine, would you believe me?

**Author's Note Again:** If you fancy the idea, leave a comment at the end and go check out my other oneshots featuring our beloved Losties when you've finished. Thanks a bunches for reading, folks. ;)

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"**Peanut Butter Love"**

Charlie brought his piece of paper nearer to his face subconsciously; he leaned closer and closer to it the more 'into' it he got. The black permanent marker scribbled back and forth continuously on the paper in his untidy scrawl; he paused for a minute every now and then, chewing on the cap of the marker, thinking.

But his favourite memories returned easily to him now that he'd thought of the one he wanted to write first—_the day I met you._ Claire. Now he had to think of four more, to get up to that point, because he wanted to give this paper to her before it was…too late.

But he didn't want to think about that right now. Today was going to be a happy day, for him and for Claire. If Desmond's latest vision came true, he didn't know how many more days he was going to have with her. And he wanted her to have a happy memory of him to cling on to, after… After he was gone.

He shut his eyes for a minute, before reopening them and scribbling even more furiously now, his entire mind on the greatest hits of his life, the happier times. It worked, this distraction, and he didn't stop writing until he suddenly sensed a presence beside him, and a happy, familiar voice in his ear.

"Hello, Charlie," she said, settling down to sit beside him in their tent, where he was sitting beside Aaron asleep in his crib. She smiled so cheerfully; Charlie couldn't stay brooding when he was with her. He looked up and grinned, folding his piece of paper into a square and putting it in his pocket with the marker.

"Hello, Claire." Just looking at her chased all the troubling thoughts for his future out of his mind. He still had today, after all, and he was not going to waste it. "So how about—"

"What were you writing?" she asked at the same time. They looked and each and laughed like a bunch of children; anyone who saw them would wonder at their almost hysterical laughter, but none but them could feel as they did at the moment the wonderful release laughing brought, for Charlie especially.

"You go first," Charlie said when their giggling had subsided. His face still held a smile as he looked up at her invitingly.

"What were you writing?" she repeated curiously, subconsciously playing with her baby's fluff called hair, rocking him back and forth in his crib rhythmically. Charlie watched her with him, Claire and Aaron, and knew that he was making the right choice. He would do anything for the two of them, to get them rescued. He would die for them.

Shaking himself out his thoughts, he looked away from Aaron and into Claire's eyes. They were a bright, sparkling blue. He loved her eyes. "Nothing," he said, vainly trying to appear nonchalant. His voice sounded unnaturally high even to himself, however, so he tried again. "Just scribbles," he said, "memories."

"Happy memories?"

"Very happy memories." He smiled at her, eyes twinkling. She stopped rocking Aaron to brush her yellow hair out of her eyes, as if clearing her vision to better be able to study him, trying to silently read more about his mysterious notes.

She gave up after a moment with a crooked half-smile, and went back to swaying the crib. "Will I ever get to read them?" she finally asked, and he was surprised at her caring expression. She genuinely, genuinely wanted to know about him, his life and his memories.

"They were written just for you," he said truthfully, placing his hand over his pocket where the paper was, the sudden surge of emotion racing through him enlightening and weightlifting. "When I'm done," he promised, before she could even ask. "I'll let you read them."

She smiled warmly. "All right," she agreed.

Charlie squinted past the sun's sudden brightness so he could see her face clearly. "So, what are you planning on doing today?" he asked, like a teenage boy working up the nerve to ask a girl out on a date. The only differences were, he wasn't a teenager anymore, and he wasn't working up the nerve. He was already confident in her answer.

Claire laughed. "Do you have something in mind?"

"As a matter of fact," he said, standing up and grabbing her hands, "I do. You will remember that once before we tried to have a happy picnic on the beach and it fell through. I say we try again to 'seize the day' and have that picnic."

"Now?" she asked, a rhetorical question. She had already stood up beside him, her hands still in his own. She looked down at her baby. "What about Aaron; who's going to watch him?"

"Why, his favourite auntie, of course. Sun's already agreed to take him for the day. So there's nothing holding you back, Claire," he teased. "You can't refuse me."

"Did I ever have that choice?" she asked, finally pulling her hands away and turning to make sure Aaron would be okay with Sun for the majority of today. Charlie put his hand on her shoulder, promised to return in a minute, and went off to set up the picnic a ways down the beach, where they could be alone.

He returned quickly; most of their little lunch had already been set up with Hurley's help earlier today. Claire had given Aaron to Sun, who was murmuring soothingly in his ear and rocking him gently. Now she was waiting for him, smiling expectantly.

"We won't get interrupted this time?" she asked, taking the arm he half-teasingly offered her; he lead them down to the beach, their feet sinking pleasantly in the sand.

"No sodding chance," he said. "I'm spending all day with you, and nothing will change that." She looked at him in happy surprise, and he winked. By now they had reached the beach, where a blanket had been spread out so they didn't have to sit directly on the sand.

"Sayid showed me this place," Charlie continued, sitting down across from her as she settled down on the blanket. "Said he took Shannon here once, I think." He gazed out at the ocean, remembering the blonde haired woman that was no longer with them.

"Well, I think it's perfect," Claire said appreciatively. She looked from him to the food between them once, and then reached for the basket like a greedy ten-year-old. "I'm starving," she said simply, delightedly rummaging through all the food Charlie had carefully packed.

"_Peanut butter_!" Claire exclaimed a moment later, pulling the Dharma jar of it out of the bag and holding it to her. She'd had some of it since they discovered the food supply, of course, but just the mere fact that Charlie remembered and thought to pack it was wonderful. "Thank you," she said sincerely, her face lit up with joy.

Charlie laughed. "It's not all for you," he said teasingly, trying and failing to take the jar from her eager hands; but she yanked it out of arm's reach and clutched it to her chest, laughing in delight.

"Mine!"

"All right, all right." Charlie surrendered, laying down on his side and holding his head up with one hand. With the other, he pulled the basket closer to him and looked through it. "There's plenty of other things in here I'd rather eat anyway," he said thoughtfully, pulling out a few items. "Like this granola bar…or this piece of…er, green stuff…that looks good…" He looked up to find that her grin mirrored his own. "I don't need your sodding peanut butter."

She handed it to him politely. "I'll share with you anyway," she said kindly, her face completely serious but for the twinkle in her eyes. "Just so you don't have to eat that 'green stuff'."

"Well, I appreciate your generosity." Charlie picked up the peanut butter and looked at it as if were a sacred gift. He sorted through the food again. "I think I even have a few slices of lovely white bread in here that would go wonderfully with this extra chunky peanut butter…"

Claire licked her lips expectantly.

Charlie made both sandwiches, handing one to her and finding more pleasure in her eager look than he doubted he would ever find in anything else. She took her first bite, and made sounds of great appreciation. "That's good," she said, her voice muffled because of the peanut butter stuck on the roof of her mouth. Charlie ate his own sandwich in silence, content just to sit and watch her in her blissful snacking.

Claire finished her sandwich and cocked her head, smiling slightly at him, though he didn't notice. He was looking at her, but his thoughts seemed far away. "Charlie," she whispered, but he didn't seem to hear. She cleared her throat. "Charlie!"

"Hmm?" He started out of his trance, and met her gaze, offering her a smile. His own sandwich was forgotten in his hand, half-eaten.

"You're were staring," Claire said, "at me."

"Oh," he said, looking like he was embarrassed. He sat up cross-legged instead of spread out lazily across the blanket. "I'm sorry. Did I freak you out?"

She grinned to show that all was forgiven, shaking her head. "No, not at all." She scooted closer to him, her gaze deep and meaningful. "What were you thinking?" she asked curiously, leaning against him.

"A lot of different things." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and when she did nothing but snuggle closer, he grinned and continued. "I was thinking about how beautiful you looked. And I was thinking about how happy I was here in this moment…with you."

"Really?" She sat up and looked at him, her eyes full of emotion. "I'm very happy here with you, too," she whispered, and then rested her head back on his shoulder, his arm still around her. "Charlie?" she asked a minute later, her tone serious.

He hummed in response, encouraging her to go on.

"Is something wrong?" This time, when she sat up to stare at him, his arm dropped from around her shoulders. She looked at him, worried. "You can tell me anything, you know."

Charlie's smile faltered, but he was silent. Claire continued anxiously, "You always seem to be moping recently. And just now, when you looked at me—it was like you were committing me to your memory or something, I don't know…" She dropped her gaze, staring at the ground. "Like maybe you would never see me again."

"Hey," Charlie said, full of concern for her. He stroked her cheek with his thumb gently. "It's okay; nothing is wrong. I'm fine. I'm sitting on a tropical beach eating peanut butter sandwiches with the most beautiful girl in the entire world." He grinned, and cupped her face in his hands. "Bloody hell, I'd say I'm more than fine. I'm the luckiest man in the sodding world…despite certain past events."

Claire managed a small laugh. When she looked back up at him, she felt a lot better. She didn't know why she was worrying, anyway. They were together now, and that's all that mattered. "You're right," she said, surprising him—pleasantly so—by leaning in and kissing his cheek playfully.

He grinned, the tease in his eyes returning. "So," he said significantly, reaching for the half empty jar a few feet away. "How about finishing off this peanut butter? Think you can do it, or should I just eat it?" Claire laughed and lunged at him and the jar.

"Give it to me, Charlie!"


End file.
